Quite possibly am the only person who celebrates having no more exams by hoovering.
Am feeling like the skirting boards need a wash too.

Also, thanks to the bastard boiler men, half of my wall is coming apart. Bastards. Weren't even wearing boiler suits. That's just unprofessional.

Domestic(ated) Goddess (+ Revel-ution)

I come to you fresh from doing housework (I know, I know, take a moment to get your head around this rarest and most inconceivable of concepts!) My bathroom, which had been growing increasingly grimy and shit, is now shimmering and sparkling like the porcelain palace it ought to be! Shelves now organised into nice, sensible compartments, toothpaste HQ free of congealed scum and dust evicted left-right-and-centre!

The only thing stopping the Queen taking up direct residence is the massive hole in the ceiling from the last time I tried to do something to make anywhere outside of my bedroom slightly organised. The bath remains a drop-trap for unwitting mice and spiders, but at least now they will be descending into somewhere more pleasant than the loft from whence they come!

Contrary to the impression I've already seared into this blog, scrubbing toilets has not been the most exciting part of my weekend so far. Last night was the fabulous birthday curry bash for my good chums Anna and Sunshine which involved (far too) much Indian food, peach schnapps with pineapple juice and good, old fashioned fun.

(In absolutely every photo I think I have ever been in, I look quite deranged, so I'll just try to justify this with the fact I'd just eaten something indistinguishable from vomit, am absolutely terrible at applying makeup, and lack sufficient melanin to give my eyes a camera-friendly colour... Also, that is Anna, who has eye-makeup skills which verge on godly and who despite having dashing blonde hair is queen of melanin. She is also capable of posing without looking like she is planning to kill the camera with fire...)

Highlight moments of the evening:

Ebony: Oh, but she's such a suck ass.

Georgie: (taking this quite, quite literally) ...SHE SUCKS ASS?

Anna and Emily's stirring rendition of a Flight of the Conchords Megamix (which quickly descended into 'Everything Comes Down To Poo') - actually, there was something of a turd theme. Georgie's chocolate "Vagina" pudding looked somewhat like a plop itself, and regardless what the conversation was, it always turned around to bottoms.

(Aforementioned pud - blame Anna and Emily's collective dirty mind.)

The Scary pervy men, and the banter with the waiting staff, who seemed to think that "Sterling, mate!" meant "Give me a glass, too, mate!" and who ate ALL the puddings.

My Korma was particularly grey and vomit-esque (especially with the addition of egg-fried rice) in all but flavour, the naan breads were gargantuan, and I think all of us came away feeling that we'd had enough curry to last at least four decades (possibly five).

Then, of course, going back to Sunny's mum's man's house (which he BUILT himself, something that STILL blows every braincell I have) and laughing at the ridiculousness that is 'Deep Blue' or something.

"We gave the sharks huge brains...we didn't expect them to GET SMART." "I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU LET ME LOVE YOU."

And also the horrible yellow-dressed badger woman who only WISHED she could sing, as well as beautiful bacon rolls (what do you get if you push a pig down a hill? &c.) for breakfast in the morning. Excellente!

So, in conclusion, you might say that cleaning the bog was actually the LEAST interesting event of the weekend so far, but you know what they say about leaving the best till last, and letting the poo float to the top. (I told you, EVERYthing comes down to poo.)

To quote Miss Sunshine, "Absolutely Sterling!" :D

What ho!

First off, I have a horrid recurring sore throat. It returns at 9pm almost exactly, and endures until about 11am every day. God knows what's up with it.

Anyway, I have spent a large part of this evening reading P.G. Wodehouse stories aloud to myself with great enthusiasm. I have my Bertie Wooster and Jeeves voices PERFECTED, though I also really enjoyed doing a painfully gruff and proper one for the Duke of Chiswick (possibly hence enhanced throat issues...) I have strong opinions on this, and I'm going to throw it out there for the world to see - Wodehousian slang needs a mass revival, what! From now on, I am going to make it my job to include more than simply the occasional expeditionary TALLY HO!

Once I was done with that reading lark, I set to tidying up my bookshelves (which had become disastrous and painful to look at), and in doing so rediscovered my OCD tendencies whenever it comes to tidying anything. I have now got separate (and dashed well tidy!) shelves for my classics, my reading guides, my as of now alphabetised general books, my reference books, my non-fiction garb and, of course, the kiddies series shelf remains! In addition, I now have a rather spiffing audiobook shelf, for all those cassettes I don't have a player for, and such like.

I feel dashed accomplished, I'll have you know. Capital idea, it was, too. :)